Mr Monk and the Very Strange Light
by silvercatlunatic
Summary: Mr. Monk gets in way over his head after being kidnapped. Some of his closest friends aren't what they seem...
1. Mr Monk Goes to the Store

**And so it begins...**

* * *

"Natalie, I _need_ you."

"Mr. Monk, I have Julie's recital. You can go buy some wipes down at Wal-Mart. You can go grab a taxi. It'll be easy."

"But Natalie, I _can't_ go in a taxi! I'm _me_!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Monk, but I really can't miss this. You can do it without me, I believe in you."

"Natalie! Natalie, I'm your boss! I command you! I **command** you-"

A small click signalized the end of the conversation.

Adrian sighed dejectedly as he hung up his sterilized phone. Not _only_ would he have to buy them on his own, but it was night already!

_But he really needed wipes._

Before, a small fire had broken out in his kitchen when he had tried to clean the electrical socket where his microwave was plugged in. Thankfully, he had been able to put out the fire using one of the many spare fire extinguishers he kept around, but one of his packets of wipes had been singed. He had to throw them out.

And he was left with ninety-nine packs of wipes.

Ninety-nine.

_Ninety… nine…_

Gathering every nerve in his body, he grabbed his coat, organizing the change in his pocket as he did.

After straightening the mirror, he nervously walked outside of the house.

A small, green light in the distance caught his eye. He had lived here for 20 years, and never had he seen such a thing. Before his mind could come up with a possibility as to what it was, it sped over at an impossible speed, until it was hovering over him.

Immediately, a bright white light engulfed him.

"Naaataaalieeeeee." He wailed.

"I told you. This always happens to me. Everything _always_ goes wrong." He sniffed

Adrian closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was strapped down to a metal device.

Lights were flashing around him, and a line of unusual tools were assembled on the wall. He feebly stretched his hand in a desperate attempt to touch the point of a nearby light structure.

Adrian gasped. Before him was…

"Azlan!" Adrian gasped, momentarily forgetting the light.

"Yes! It is I", declared Azlan the Lion.

"Where am I?" Monk demanded.

"Relax, Adrian. Just close your eyes."

Mr. Monk could have sworn the lion seemed smug, judging by the glint in his handsome eyes. But before he could analyze it further a strange colored gas seeped in through vents in the room. A cold sensation gripped him as he slipped from conciousness.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated. **

**Writer A would like to note that she is greatly sorry, but also greatly entertained.**

**Writer B would like to note that she is greatly entertained. Not in the least bit sorry.**


	2. Mr Monk is Missing

Natalie stretched her arms high over her head, and fell back onto her plush, comfy bed. A smile bloomed on her face.

'What a good day,' Natalie thought, grinning.

She had gotten the day off from Monk; a rare occasion indeed. She got a great blouse from the local clothes shop for a bargain, and Julie did amazing in her play recital. She got a lot of positive reviews, and a director of a small acting troupe that had been visiting even gave her his contact address!

Julie had already gone to bed, so now, Natalie took some time to relax.

She grabbed the remote at her bedside, and switched between the channels until she found some sappy romantic comedy on for free. After waiting two minutes and thirty seconds for her microwavable popcorn to pop, she finally settled down on her bed.

"_Brrrrrrring_"

"_Brrrrrrring_"

"Ugggggh." Natalie groaned, and put her popcorn aside as she reached for the telephone. Before she had this job, she could skip calls if she was busy, or just did not feel like picking up. Being the assistant of Monk meant that she had to be able to be contacted 24/7. No exceptions. A missed call could mean life or death. So she picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Natalie spoke into the receiver.

"Natalie?" A gruff voice answered her.

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Stottlemeyer. Natalie, Monk's gone missing."

Natalies' grip on the phone loosened, and it almost dropped from her hand. She gasped, and her eyes widened.

"What? Mr. Monk's missing? When? Where?_ What happened?_" She yelled frantically, wringing her hands.

"Just come on over outside Monk's apartment, we'll be outside. We've already have our best and finest out searching every nook in San Francisco."  
"Okay, okay. I'll be over there in a second."  
"Okay."  
Click.

Well, there went her relaxing night.

**Boobs.**

**Writer A would like to lick the wall. And the pillow. And her miiiind.**

**Writer B would like to prevent Writer A's tongue from touching any and all objects in her room.**

**And skull.**


	3. Mr Monk Meanders? I HARDLY KNOW HER

At first, all there was was blackness. A painful throb resounded in his head, prompting him to open his eyes. Images swam as he tried to make sense of what was in

front of him. As the objects around him became clearer, he slowly realized he was lying in a gutter next to the most _god-awful_, disgusting trashcan he had ever seen

in his life. In utter disgust, he flung himself away in the opposite direction, slamming himself against a wall and once again rendering him unconscious.

The second time he woke up, he rose to his feet, and put his hand into his pocket reaching for a wipe. When none was to be found, he immediately wandered, dazed

and confused, into the street. Taking a moment to gather himself, he shook his head to clear it of the ringing and recognized his surrounding as down-town San

Francisco. He stumbled his way towards Natalie's house, even though it was a considerable distance. He could vaguely make out a bus sign, and was tempted to wait

for it, but then he remembered he was Monk, and buses were germy, not to mention his experience in the New York City public transit system was a disaster. So he

walked on, trying to assess the situation. He couldn't remember a thing from last night, his stomach was hurting oddly, and his head hurt worse than when he got

amnesia from being hit in the head with a lead pipe. He spent the rest of the morning slowly trudging on towards Natalie's, and when he finally arrived in the late

afternoon, he was about ready to pass out. After ringing the doorbell a few times to no avail, he grabbed the spare key to her house that he knew was hidden under a

fake rock in her front yard, and let himself in. He locked the door, and the toll of everything he had been through that night finally took effect as he used his final

energy to collapse onto her couch, passing out for the final time that day.

* * *

**Writer A would like to spit and lick things and apologize for the long wait folks because we know that EVERYONE OF YOU LOVE THIS FANFICTION no exceptions.**

**Writer B worries about the excess amount of salivation that Writer A seems to expel, and would also like to note that she knows there are a few viewers in Germany and Japan, and will fly over there and beat the gooey brown poop out of them if they keep refusing to review.**

**Also, chapters take longer to produce because there are (as shown) two individual writers who must get together to write them, but chapters will be coming in at a faster rate.**


	4. Mr Monk is Being Such a Tease

They had left the police station in a blur. Randy and the Captain had sped over to Monk's house as quickly as possible. Now Natalie, Randy and Stottlemeyer were cruising in the police car searching all the streets of San Francisco for their missing friend. Despite searching every nook, cranny, alley, and convenience store selling wipes, Monk was nowhere to be found, and it was getting late. As it got darker and darker, and their chances of finding Monk grew slimmer and slimmer, Stottlemeyer finally had enough. Frustrated and upset, he slammed his sexy fists into the hood of the police car.

"DAMN IT." He swore. "There's nothing more we can do tonight to find Monk."

Natalie put her head in her hands and leaned against the car. "I can't believe this." She moaned, "I leave him alone for one _night_ and he disappears! This is all my fault!"

Stottlemeyer put his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, hey, we'll find him. Don't worry. It's not your fault."

Randy piped in, "Yeah, you know Monk. He probably got himself killed trying to clean the blade of a mugger."  
Natalie glared at him.

Randy cleared his throat. "Maybe it had something to do with the case he was working on."

Natalie pitched in, "You know, I think he was working on something with the case file back at my house. The Donnelberg murder. He left the case file at my house."  
"Okay Natalie, would you mind if we went back to your house to look at that? It might be important," said the captain.

Natalie nodded her consent and they climbed into the car and drove off to the house.

As they approached the house Natalie sensed something was off. The rock where she hid the extra key to her house was slightly off center. She motioned for Stottlemeyer and Randy to be silent as they entered the house, and both cops prepaired to draw their guns. Natalie pushed open the door slowly, noticing it wasn't locked and the creak it made resounded in the house. The two cops entered first and made sure there wasn't an immediate threat. Natalie slowly turned on the lights and as light flooded the house they saw a still form on the sofa.

Natalie gasped.

"Monk!"

**Writer A would like to eat. Also she would like to mary monk and learn how to spell one day.**

**Writer B also wishes that Writer A would learn how to spell ('senter'? Really?). Writer B nonetheless loves Writer A because she is an awesome writer. Even if it 'into', not 'onto'. Burn. Also, failed cake is failed. But you don't get any, stupid not-reviewing readers that may or may not exist.**


	5. Mr Monk is Totes Sad

The hospital doors burst open. A team of nurses frantically pushed a gurney through the white-washed halls, and into one of the open rooms. Stottlemeyer ran closely behind pushing air molecules aside with his sexy hands as he fought to catch up to Monk's gurney. Natalie and Randy walked behind slowly, almost as if Stottlemeyer was putting too much effort into it (which he totally wasn't).

Monk, lying on the gurney, could only manage to mutter nonsensical phrases between periods of consciousness.

Mr. Monk was pushed into a private room, while Stottlemeyer, Randy, and Natalie were forced to wait outside.

"Captain, what was Mr. Monk saying?", asked Randy.

"It seemed like he was saying…" Stottlemeyer paused.

"What's wrong?" Natalie questioned.

"Well, it just doesn't add up. It sounded like he was saying… 'Azlan-"

Then, they were interrupted by the cries of "WIIIIIIIPE" from the next room, and unanimously, they all knew Monk was finally awake.

With the nurses permission, they all entered the room.

The trio approached Mr. Monk, laying exhausted on the hospital bed.

He was in a complete state of disarray, which was a shockrise (surprise & shocking) to everyone. His hair was messy, his clothes were torn, and there was huge bags underneath his eyes.

"Mr. Monk, are you alright?" Natalie asked. "I'm so sorry I left you alone. Is there anything I can do for you?"  
Mr. Monk whined pitifully. "Natalie, my- my stomach huuuurts."

Natalie nodded, and turned to one of the nurses to ask for some tests for stomach pain.

"Also, some- some wipes. Natalie, don't forget the wipes. Natalie. **Natalie.** The wipes, Natalie. Don't forget the wipes."  
Stottlemeyer muttered to Randy, "At least he's still in his usual state of mind", and they both chortled together.

**Writer A would like to say that she feel Stottlemeyers sexy hands while wearing a kilt.**

**Writer B would like to say that the image of Stottlemeyer bolting after a gurney in a hospital, desperately slapping air molecules out of the way with his sexy hands is a fabulous thang.**


End file.
